Closer to the Fire and Ice
by fourwalls
Summary: "Change your shirt, you'll get sick if you keep your wet shirt on." He looked up to look at her as if waiting for her to turn around.Olivia did not miss a beat. "I did not take you for a bashful man. It's not like I haven't seen a naked man before


D**ISCLAIMER: I do not own Full metal alchemist.**

**contains spoilers for those who haven't read the final chapter yet.**

**S**et after the final chapter, of full metal alchemist. Inspired by page 76 to 78 of chapter 108.

I hope you'll like.

* * *

_She turned to look at him, golden hair dancing with the movement._

"_Scar, what is your real name." Her demeanor uninterested, but only to the untrained eye._

_The one in question didn't immediately reply. His eyes were blank as he stared out the window of the hospital bay, as if recalling a distant memory._

"_I have died twice," his voice was grave and hollow, "I do not exist." The foreigner turned to look at her slowly, his eyes burrowing through her. Gentle, and yet not missing any hints of brutality it was so accustomed to._

"_I do not need a name," scar continued, and the starting of a smirk hovered on his lips as he answered her. "You can call me what you like."_

_And the grin remained in his rugged face._

_Her imagined sublime message behind those words, kept her awake, tossing and turning until the wee hours of the morning._

It keeps her awake still.

* * *

He was counting with his mind, thirty-five, thirty-six, giving out loud puffs of breath every time he pulled himself up. Sweat was dripping off all over his large frame, the heat given off by his worn muscles a stark contrast to the near freezing temperatures of the surrounding.

His eyes scanned the dark interior, still not quite used to the cold and still unbelieving of how the reinforced concrete that surrounds the northern base cannot keep the drafts from seeping in.

It still gets on his nerves. He missed the warmth of Ishval. Even Amestris was also a whole lot better than this.

"Fifty-eight, fifty-nine..." He whispers and then he grunts, his breath was visible from what scant amount of light that was able to pass from the small glass windows outlining the brick walls. The moon was shining in full and the snow was falling, like it never really stops.

A strong wind howled outside.

He was pulling himself midway, when he heard footsteps nearing. Precise, confident, decisive, and yet still with a hint of femininity despite the strength it holds. It was so distinct that he easily came to recognize it even just after ten days of staying in Briggs.

He knew he wouldn't mistake it, even in his sleep. And he had been in Briggs for only a third of a year.

After one more pull-up, he let go of the cold metal bar and landed with a crisp clang as his boot connected to the floor.

As if on cue, the door to the gym creaked open. Metallic bolts protesting from the strain the heavy door imposes on it.

The person behind the door clicked her tongue in irritation.

He waited for that person to enter.

"I heard a lot of things about you Ishvalan, but having night vision isn't one of them." The woman stated as she entered the room. "I believe you were informed of where the light switches are, were you not?"

"I was. Although I never thought you'd ask around about me that much." The man in the dark answered, a little out of breath.

If the lights were on, he would have seen the grin that the woman was wearing. She turned toward the door and closed it. Again it made that loud screeching sound. Again she clicked her tongue.

"I told my men to oil this door well especially this time of the year," The woman stated as she walked across the room.

His eyes followed her silhouette making its way across the room. She must have been tired at this hour and yet, the manner in which she held herself does not hint on any of it. But he knows better. He had been watching her, since the day she told him that she allowed him to live.

Little does he know, she had been doing the same.

His eyes trailed after her, from her strong well defined shoulder, her small waist, down her well endowed hips. His eyes went back and lingered at her chest. He inwardly smirked. He can't be blamed, he was still a man, and the woman in front of her was nothing short of attractive. And that was an understatement.

She stopped at one area of the room, and flipped open a switch.

The Ishvalan squinted his eyes, from the sudden assault of light.

"General Armstrong." He said in greeting.

Olivia Armstrong turned to him to address him properly. "Scar."

Scar made his way to a nearby bench where he left a warm bottle of water, now cold. He twisted its cap and gulped down all the contents.

Olivia just waited for him patiently, from across the room.

"To what do I owe this... pleasure?" The Ishivalan inquired, as he took a seat on the bench.

The woman across from him raised her eyebrows at the gesture.

The gesture did not go unnoticed. "Problem, General?"

"I believe I have not given you yet the permission to sit." She stated, arms crossed at her chest.

Scar ceremoniously put the bottle down stood up and asked mockingly, but cautiously, "Permission to sit, Major General Armstrong."

She narrowed her eyes at him. She did not appreciate his tone. She said slowly, voice low in warning, "Permission granted."

The man in front of her took a seat and grabbed a towel to wipe the sweat off his face.

He looked at her through hooded eyes, "I am not part of your army, not your soldier, General."

She straightened up, surprised written all over her face. There were a few men who have it in them to talk to her this way. The late Buccaneer may be one, Miles may be one. But this does not mean she is used to it, and it never fails to make her already cold blood turn to ice. "On the contrary, Scar, on the contrary, you are."

But there was something about this man that made her feel more on the interested side than on the irritated side.

She saw the challenging look upon his face. She took a few steps towards him, but stopped herself as she realized that she was getting too close to him. Too dangerously close.

"The fact that you agreed to help Miles on drawing up on the policies makes you my soldier. The fact that I took you from Mustang's jurisdiction, and let you live or saved you from rotting in prison makes you my soldier. The fact that you are in Briggs _makes_ you my soldier. Are we clear,_ soldier_?" Her voice was rising steadily with every statement she made.

There was a trace of a smile etched on Scar's lips, probably unnoticeable from where Olivia stands. He answered.

"Crystal."

"Good."

There was a momentary pause between them, a moment of tense silence before the Ishvalan asked again, "What brings you here General? Is it to lecture me about being a soldier or was there something else?"

She appeared taken aback, remembering what she really came for. But it was only brief, a matter of split second.

She pulled her golden hair behind her ears, to mask the moment of her astonishment not missing the fact that Scar's auburn eyes trailed her hand as she did so. Inwardly, she blushed. Despite who she is and what she was known for, she was still a woman.

"This is a courtesy call on my part, as the head of Briggs. You have been here for what, three of four months? We haven't had a formal meeting since your arrival. I had been very busy since the appointment of the new Fuhrer, and with the funerals for my men." Olivia replied voice lowering with the last statement. She took a few more steps closer. "I am here to express my gratitude..."

"Gratitude?"

"Yes, gratitude. For the effort you have been putting on the revision of the Ishvalan policies, and to express my apologies for the behaviour of my men." She stated the last part as if she wasn't really apologetic at all.

If only Scar had a little more sense of humour, he would have laughed. But his face remained blank as it is. Despite that, he couldn't help but feel amused. Here she was, not only seconds ago scolding him, only to find out that her purpose was to express her gratitude and her apologies. She is quite nothing like anyone he encountered before.

He sighed. "It can't be helped. I still am scar."

She smiled a faintly. "Yes you are scar. The very dreadful scar, and as you remain to be him, it would carry with it the tales of horrors for many years to come."

"Would you have suggested that I change my name?"

"No. Scar fits you just perfectly. Although..." she paused for dramatic effect, "you would have to endure working out in the middle of the night for a little bit longer, and probably dodging my men who still have some murderous intent on you. But do not worry, I am advising them against it."

Although she knew that it was for his men that she would worry for in case there was an encounter with the dreaded Ishvalan. And that person also knew as much.

"Advising?" He sounded entertained. Then he shrugged, "I don't mind. I am used to being solitary." He tilted his head sideways, "Is that what you will apologize for?"

Olivia shifted her weight to one leg, not because of discomfort of the man in front of her. "My men, they are brave and strong and ready to fight and die all the time. But they are still afraid of you, and I cannot blame them, knowing your history..."

"As long as the person working directly with me doesn't have a problem with me."

She chuckled. "Miles. He looks up to you. He always informs me of your contributions and your _brilliant_ ideas, or so he says. You really made an impression on him."

Suddenly, her eyes looked at him even sharper than before. "Do not disappoint him." She threatened.

Scar did not answer. Out of nowhere he asks, "Are the two of you...?" leaving the question unfinished for her to pick up the implication.

Her eyes widened in horror on understanding the question.

"NO!" She exclaimed.

"Mustang?"

This time he did not hide the smile as he saw her disgusted reaction.

"Absolutely not!" She placed her hands on her waist, as she walked even closer to him. They were now only a little more than arms length from each other.

"Where did you even get that Idea?" She bends over and points at him.

"He speaks highly of you."

"Who? Mustang?"

He would have giggled had he not the control. "No, Miles."

She straightened up as she realized his proximity. She regained her composure from the preposterous questions that this red eyed man shot at her.

"Me and my men had been through a lot, that includes Miles. And there is nothing bad I can think of when it comes to him. I consider my men, my family, no matter how dysfunctional it may seem."

He nodded at her in understanding.

Her eyes gave him a once over and said objectively. "Change your shirt, you'll get sick if you keep your wet shirt on."

The unexpected comment kind of surprised Scar, then suddenly felt the chill of the surroundings. He almost forgot how cold it was. He complied knowing she was right. He was reaching to take off his shirt when he realized that Olivia was still in front of him, and watching him.

He looked up to look at her as if waiting for her to turn around.

Olivia did not miss a beat. "I did not take you for a bashful man. It's not like I haven't seen a naked man before.

"Very well." Scar nodded. He took the opportunity to showcase what he got.

He lifted up his thermal shirt and took it off, not minding the fact that Olivia was practically ogling at him, had she not trained herself to keep her face devoid of expression. He saw her moving closer with the corner of his eyes.

"It still is fascinating, isn't it? Those marking in your arms." She said in a low voice. Reaching her hands out, "May I?"

Scar obliged and showed her his arms. She bent over, took it and brushed her fingers along the markings, studying it like an archaeologist to an artefact.

He almost shuddered at the contact. He looked at her blue eyes, following it as it was making trails along his arms.

"It is beautiful." She whispered. But truly, what Scar sees as beautiful is the person who uttered it. He studied her face closely as she was studying the alchemic marks on his arms. He always knew her eyes were strong and beautiful, but it was incomparable to what he was seeing up close. His eyes trailed to her lips, full and moist. It made him chew on his lip.

"Who would have thought, such markings would hold great power?" She inquired. Then she looked up searching his eyes.

Deep cold blue met fiery red. They looked at each other's eyes for a few seconds, which felt like forever.

Scar was making a move to close the space between them, but then he stopped briefly. In that fraction of a second something clicked in Olivia's mind that woke her up from the trance.

She immediately drew her hands back and stood abruptly.

They looked at each other. Olivia, with dismay in her eyes, for allowing herself to be too vulnerable to him or probably from the fact that she regained her senses all too early. Which is it, she could not tell. Scar, with disappointment and regret that he hesitated, that he let go of the chance.

He feared there may never be another.

Olivia started to turn when she felt a strong hand on her wrist. She looked back to see Scar, still shirtless standing there, holding her hand. A strong determination firing up his eyes.

Inside, Olivia felt her heart race, wishing that Scar would be brave enough to do what he intends to do. But her reputation, her idea of herself, kept her from allowing that to happen.

"Ishvalan. Let go of my arm or –"

But Scar was brave enough to do it, and now he did not hesitate. He pulled her closely, and held her by the nape and he met her lips in a passionate kiss.

Olivia protested at first but he did not let go. She tried to push him with all her might, but he was far stronger. Her hands stopped struggling after a while, and found its place on his chest. She stopped her pointless fight and surrendered to the kiss. She would never admit it, but she never felt this good for a long time.

Scar noticed the lack of trashing on the part of General in his arms, and opened his eyes. He smiled during their kiss to see Olivia's eyes closed, probably enjoying the locking of their lips.

They both wished it would last forever.

Scar pulled away to take a long breath. Olivia slowly opened her eyes to see his rugged yet handsome features above her, watching her with a satisfied smile on his face.

She narrowed her eyes in annoyance and pushed herself away from him. He let go.

She brushed her uniform, and straightened it up. She ran a hand through her golden locks, putting all the stray strands in their place. Then she looked back up at the Ishvalan who had been watching her, studying her, with a look of triumph on his face.

She stared daggers at him. He only grinned wider.

She reached for her military issue ceremonial sword threateningly.

"Tell anybody of this, and soul of this, and the glint of this blade," she drew her sword and swung it skilfully making a silver arc in the air, then pointed it at him, "making its way to your neck will be the last thing you will see and remember."

They locked eyes. Scar isn't smiling now, but the smug look on his face is still evident.

Olivia turned around and made her way to the door. Before letting herself out, she half turned towards Scar.

"I am not such an easy woman to take Scar. You want me, you have to work harder than that, soldier."

Then she closed the door.

Scar didn't miss the smug and satisfied smirk on the corner of the general's full lips.

He has a feeling that this encounter wouldn't be the last.

And he was right.

* * *

Thoughts? Comments? Suggestions? Just press the button and it would make me feel really happy to hear what you think of this fic. I really do believe that they would make a very good and very interesting pair.

Pardon me if there are grammar and spelling mistakes. My first attempt in writing FMA.


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